


The Logical Choice

by venndaai



Series: MoE Roleswap Au [1]
Category: Machineries of Empire Series - Yoon Ha Lee
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Alternate Universe - Role Reversal, F/F, Sibling Incest, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-11
Updated: 2017-10-11
Packaged: 2019-01-15 21:15:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12329034
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/venndaai/pseuds/venndaai
Summary: "What is it?" Mikodez asked, in Istradez's own voice, but with the perfect nonchalance she had failed to achieve. "Girlfriend trouble?"(Istradez is Shuos Hexarch, Mikodez is a professional double and professionally practical, and Zehun doesn't deserve this.)





	The Logical Choice

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mercuryhatter](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mercuryhatter/gifts).



> ajkhjjsgk I can't believe this is what I'm writing for my first fic in this fandom. it's Simon's fault.
> 
> content warnings in the tags.
> 
> I tagged this f/f although I don't think either of them much care about gender one way or the other, the gender swap is a consequence of the role reversal AU.

  
  


The display room was comparatively unassuming considering the value of the objects it contained. The black and gold color scheme was restrained, even ascetic compared to the decoration of most rooms on the Citadel of Eyes. There were no tapestries to distract from the displays. Istradez glanced over the small case containing a simple, unadorned handgun and combat knife, and then looked at the rest of the room- at the twenty-odd calendrical swords that hung on the walls. Some were simple, even plain. Some were flashy, with hilts that shimmered in odd colors. Some were ornate, heavy with detailed scrollwork. 

In the center of the room was a single glass box containing the centerpiece of the collection. Istradez strode to it quickly, and opened it with elegant, careful fingers. She lifted out the calendrical sword. It was, Istradez knew, somewhat heavier than the others. Its hilt was brushed bronze, entirely covered in a pattern of overlapping feathers. Istradez wanted to switch it on and see the numbers jitter into glowing life, but she managed to resist the urge. She'd probably just slice her own fingers off. She'd never been any good with those things.

The collection had been a gift from Kel Command to Hexarch Shuos Kiaz, three hundred and sixty years ago. Istradez had never bothered to find out just why the Hexarch had wanted it. Kel Command must have owed her a very large favor. 

The grid chimed at her. “Careful with that thing,” Mikodez said from the door. She walked over to join Istradez, feet moving silently over the stone floor. “We should send it to Cheris as a gift. Perhaps it would make her more inclined to answer our calls."

Istradez didn't didn't turn to look at her. "I'm not sure I could bear to give it up," she said, trying to keep her voice light. "Besides, Kiaz's ghost would haunt me, probably."

This time she heard Mikodez move, which she appreciated. Hands pressed against her shoulder blades, began to massage her back. Hands the exact size and shape of her own. Istradez wanted to melt under them, but she couldn't relax.

"What is it?" Mikodez asked, in Istradez's own voice, but with the perfect nonchalance she had failed to achieve. "Girlfriend trouble?"

Istradez shrugged off Mikodez's touch. She turned, and forced herself to meet her sister's eyes. Mikodez was dressed for her role as Hexarch’s double. That made it worse. "I have a favor to ask of you. Rather a large one, I'm afraid."

The amusement evaporated from Mikodez's face, leaving a cold mask. "No," she said.

Istradez bit the inside of her lip in frustration. She'd hoped Mikodez hadn't found out yet, but really she'd known that was just wishful thinking. She'd also known that Mikodez wasn't going to make this any easier on her. "You haven't heard what it is yet."

"You're going to ask me to take over as Hexarch," Mikodez said, hard and cold as marble. "And I am telling you it is not going to happen."

"You're being quite insubordinate right now, sister-" Istradez started, hearing her voice strange and distant in her own ears, and then she stopped, as Mikodez sank to her knees. 

"Hexarch," Mikodez said, face upturned. Istradez’s face, but suddenly strange and unfamiliar. "Look at me."

"I'm looking," Istradez said, feeling ice begin to circle her heart. "I'm looking at my older sister, who has always been infinitely more competent than me at plotting and scheming and management and doing what needs to be done-"

"Very soon I am going to be useless," Mikodez said. "You've seen the medical reports. You've seen me fall asleep in meetings. Do you know I passed out this morning? I can't manage my own drug use, how do you expect me to manage an empire?"

"I don't," Istradez said. "Just a faction-"

"We both know what you're planning to do," Mikodez said. “It’s too much to hope Cheris- or Jedao, for that matter- will suddenly reveal previously hidden skills at administration.”  

"You'll have Zehun-"

"You'd be better off making them Hexarch. At least then your legacy wouldn’t be tainted by a sudden embarrassing degeneration."

Istradez took a step back, hands balling into fists within the deep sleeves of her official red robe. She had known it would be a challenge to get Mikodez to accept the plan. If she was honest with herself, deep down she had known she would lose. But she was starting to get the horrible feeling that she’d lost more completely than she’d even imagined was possible.

Mikodez continued to kneel, continued to look straight at Istradez. “No,” she said, a little softer. “There’s another solution here. One you haven’t considered.”

“Of course,” Istradez said bitingly. “You always know the cleverer way. Remind me again why you weren’t the one who went into the Shuos?”

“Because we both know you’re the one with the people skills,” Mikodez said patiently. It was an old argument, but not one they usually had while at this height differential. It was achingly wrong, but Istradez found she couldn’t move, either pull Mikodez up or to sink to the ground herself. “You’re the one people like and trust. I’m aware that everyone can tell that there’s something important I’m missing. I’m not a leader, Istra. You can’t make me into one.”

“I bet I could,” Istradez said. “If I went, you would take over, if you had no other choice. I could force you into it.”

The seconds ticked by and Mikodez didn’t speak, and Istradez’s hands twitched inside her sleeves, clenching and unclenching. 

“You could,” Mikodez said at last, flat and expressionless, and Istradez felt a rush of satisfaction that she’d at least managed to get some kind of reaction. “It would be a very bad decision.” 

Istradez turned her back on Mikodez, and stared at the sword, trying to think over the rush of blood in her ears. If she said it before Mikodez could, maybe that would give her some tiny advantage, some shred of power over the situation. “So,” she said, chilly as a glacier. “The better decision is to sacrifice you?”

She couldn’t turn, couldn’t bear to see Mikodez watching her with that familiar look of calculation: the thoughtful expression as she worked out How To Manage Istradez. It made her feel so small and weak. She might be the most successful Hexarch in centuries, with the skills to kill someone with a toothpick, but to Mikodez she’d never be more than a problem for that superior mind to solve. 

“You have to send someone,” Mikodez said, and the flatness was gone, now that damn tone of mild amusement was back and Istradez wanted to break something. Mikodez’s head preferably. “You’re the least expendable choice. I’m the most expendable choice.”

Istradez turned back around, and stared at Mikodez with all the force of her fury. Mikodez might be Istradez’s superior at strategy, but Istradez could always win a staring contest, easily. Istradez sucked in a breath of triumph when Mikodez closed her eyes. 

“A Hexarch’s sister,” Istradez said, “is hardly expendable. You can’t erase my love for you, Miki, you can’t pretend that doesn’t have more value than the lives of a hundred Shuos doubles. They’re nothing compared to you.”

Mikodez’s eyes opened slowly. Istradez found herself trying to remember if they’d always been that shade of brown. She had pictures, years and years of family albums, she could check, but then she’d have to admit that she couldn’t remember- Mikodez’s slight smile was back but it didn’t reach those dark eyes. “That,” Mikodez said, “is extremely bad management.”

Istradez slapped her.

She regretted it immediately, and regretted it even more when Mikodez caught her hand and kissed it with horrible tenderness. 

“You’re my Hexarch, Istra,” Mikodez murmured. “I’m your asset. Use me.” Her mouth was warm. “We made this choice a long time ago.”

With that the spell was broken, and Istradez found herself able to move freely again, able to sink to her knees and snatch her hand out of her sister’s grip so she could shake Mikodez by the shoulders. “Do you care?” Istradez shouted. “Do you care at all about your life? Is it all just a game to you?”

Mikodez was limp as a doll. “I care,” she said. “I’m not sure how to prove it, though, so you’ll just have to trust me on that one.”

The floor was cool under Istradez’s knees. It was tiled in a pattern of black and gold. This was an odd place to be having such a conversation, Istradez thought. She wondered where Jedao was now, Jedao or Cheris or whoever was occupying the body of a young Kel-seconded Shuos. 

“Jedao isn’t worth you,” she said.

“No, he isn’t,” Mikodez agreed. “But the hexarchate is.”

Istradez supposed she would have to trust Mikodez on that one, too. She’d be a hypocrite to disagree. This whole thing was hypocritical, considering she’d been proposing to sacrifice herself at the start of the conversation. She wondered why Mikodez hadn’t used that against her.

“Have you told Zehun?”

Mikodez smiled crookedly. “I think it would be better not to, until it’s done.”

Istradez sat back, and found herself shivering, strangely cold. “They’re going to be extremely angry at you,” Istradez said. “And, what’s much worse, they’re going to take it out on me.”

“Istra.”

“Please leave.” Istradez rubbed her hands together, trying to warm them, and thought, I am not going to beg. “Actually. Stay or go. I don’t care. I’m leaving.”

Mikodez didn’t try to stop her, and that was the biggest betrayal of all.

When Istra entered the hexarch’s rooms, Spirel was there, going over reports, her hair half unbraided and her face bare. “Get the fuck out,” Istradez told her. She didn’t move. Istradez let out a hissing breath of frustration, and stalked past her to the bedroom. 

She pulled out her tablet. There was a half-composed message on it, a letter to Spirel that she’d been composing. It took less than a fourth of a second to delete it. It took longer for Istradez to remember where she’d put the family files, and what the multiple passcodes were. But before long she had the albums opened, and selected at random a family photograph. There she was, a small girl in the red of a Shuos cadet. Home for the holidays. And there, at her shoulder, her brother, still significantly taller, hair curlier. Wearing green robes, unaffiliated with any faction. Eyes just a shade lighter, and slightly more golden. 

Someone else was in the room. They’d entered very quietly but she was a Shuos, and had been assassin track, a fact which very few people ever forgot. She moved, and had Mikodez in a tight hold before Mikodez could move again. 

“Let me go,” Mikodez said flatly.

Istradez let her go.

“Lie down.”

Istradez obeyed, as she always did eventually, though the bile of frustrated rage rose in her throat. The anger just aroused her further, as it always did, and that had always been a problem. That had always made her so weak. 

“You always think you can win an argument just with sex,” Istradez spat. Mikodez said nothing, just moved Istradez’s robes out of the way, methodically, unrelentingly. Istradez shivered harder when Mikodez’s hands touched the bare skin of her thighs. For all Istradez’s accusations of cold-bloodedness, Mikodez ran hot, her metabolism constantly burning her up. Had she eaten today?  Istradez hadn’t checked, and the guilt of that made her even angrier. She pulled Mikodez into a kiss, and bit down on Mikodez’s lip hard enough that she could taste blood. Vauhan blood, too valuable to waste so carelessly. She enjoyed Mikodez’s gasp of pain. 

Mikodez broke away from the kiss, and sank between Istradez’s thighs, and Istradez found suddenly that she was looking down on them both, a double vision, two identical bodies locked together. Istradez wasn’t a narcissist. She had no attachment to her own form, and certainly didn’t love it enough to want to fuck it. She’d prefer it if Mikodez still looked like a sibling instead of a double, or if she looked like something else, whatever she wanted, as long as it wasn’t Istradez’s damn hands and mouth and breasts she was feeling right now. But she’d decided decades ago that she’d take it over no Mikodez at all.

“You think you can win this way,” Istradez gasped. “Damn games. You’re more Shuos than any Shuos I know.”

Mikodez was going to die wearing Istradez’s face. Istradez turned her head against the sheet, and gritted her teeth, and begged for more, more, with her tongue and with the desperate movements of her body.

She could forbid it. Jedao’s rebellion would probably succeed, though with more difficulty- more bloodshed- and Istradez would have nothing to offer him when forging an alliance. And Jedao already didn’t like or trust the Shuos. Maybe the rebellion would fail, and they’d all go down with it. There was no safe path for the Shuos to take, now that things had started. But Istradez didn’t have to sacrifice Mikodez today. She could forbid it. She could lock Mikodez up, even, though that probably wouldn’t be necessary. And Mikodez wouldn’t even be angry, wouldn’t hold a grudge. 

But Mikodez was driven by practicality, by necessity, by doing her job and doing it well. And she was right about the rest of it, too, right that she couldn’t continue as Istradez’s double. So Istradez could lock her up, and instead get a call from Spirel one night, informing her that the drugs and malnutrition had finally gained the upper hand. And then it would be long and drawn out, and if Mikodez wanted to avoid that, that was at least an undeniably human motivation, and how could Istradez deny it? She’d want the same, if it were her, and she wouldn’t put her sister’s feelings first, either. They might be different in many ways, under the skin, but they were the same in their selfishness. 

She was so angry, and worse, so jealous. She’d wanted to be the one to go out with a bang. That would have been better. Mikodez would have been fine with that, if only it had been the more logical choice. Istradez pulled on Mikodez’s hair, trying to wipe out the thoughts going round in vicious circles, but it didn’t work.

After Mikodez had finished with her, Istradez reached out, wanting to, just once, give Mikodez a taste of mindless vulnerability, but Mikodez pushed her away. Probably for the best.

Mikodez stayed in bed for exactly two hours, though she spent most of that playing mindless games on her tablet, after their activities were over and they’d both showered. Istradez felt and heard it when Mikodez got up and wandered out of the room, though she didn’t move or open her eyes. The bed felt very empty. She could call Spirel, late though it was. Spirel would always come when called. Spirel would be there, after Mikodez was gone, and Istradez distantly hoped she wouldn’t come to hate her for not being Miki.

Istradez didn’t sleep at all that night. When eventually she turned on the lights and got out of bed herself, a look at her notifications showed that Mikodez had already gone, having of course arranged things herself.

When Istradez staggered into her office, Zehun was there, and their face was bloodless, and they moved like they’d aged thirty years in a night. “I see you know the situation,” Istradez said, amazed at how level her voice was. She probably didn’t look much better herself. She hadn’t braided her hair or applied any makeup, and she was for once wearing her official robes, because she’d been unable to put the thought into assembling an outfit. “Did you catch her before she left?”

Zehun shook their head, and pulled their shrug tighter around them. “I called,” they said. “We had a conversation.” They sat down in one of Istradez’s extravagant chairs, staring at Mikodez’s plants where they sit on the desk and shelves. They were going to die, Istradez thought, if she didn’t remember to assign someone to water them. “I always knew you two were going to be the death of me,” Zehun said.

Kind of them, to include Istradez in that. She knew Zehun appreciated her abilities as Hexarch and the stability she’d brought to her faction, but it was her sister who Zehun loved. “I can guess what she told you,” Istradez said. “This course of action is the one that has the best chance of safety, for your grandchildren and for the rest of us.”

Zehun didn’t respond to that, just took out their tablet and began scrolling down whatever page it was on. “We have other crises right now,” they said. 

“We always do.”

Istradez wondered if there was any point at which they could have escaped ending like this. Plenty of people in the Hexarchate lived out full, happy lives. If they didn’t there’d be no point to anything. But for the three of them, maybe that would have required being entirely different people.

There was a bowl of candy on the desk. Istradez used one hand to push it off. The hard sweets bounced a little as they scattered across the floor. Zehun said nothing.

Mikodez could have sat there and gone over reports as though nothing were wrong.

Istradez wasn’t Mikodez.

“The current list of known spies in the Fortress,” she said. “Get it to me.”

Zehun was efficient as always. The list popped up in front of her in seconds. 

She pulled a few small objects out of the thin drawer in her desk. 

“Excuse me,” she said. “I think I’m going to be busy for the next few hours. Do whatever you see fit, in my absence.”

“I suppose,” Zehun said, after a measured pause, “that angering Shandal Yang and Iruja won’t matter much if you’re going to be rid of them in a few days. But, Istradez.”

Istradez paused, already half out of her chair. 

“Don’t make too much of a mess.”

Istradez didn’t answer. On her way to the door, she picked up a few of the potted plants and dropped them, watching the pottery shatter, just to be thorough about things. 

She never heard anything more from Mikodez. The nearest listening post to Faian’s station sent her the data on the explosion, and she watched the recordings far too many times before deleting them. 

In the chaos following the loss of the Hexarchs, everyone forgot about a few missing spies.

Istradez returned to the weapon room, and removed the sword from its case, and sent it on a small moth in the direction of the Swanknot swarm, along with almost all the current military data that the Shuos had available. Jedao could take it or not. Istradez just wanted it gone.


End file.
